Andrea Cameron

The Treehouse

2011-03-29T17:21:00.000-07:00

What started off as a tree fort to use up leftover wood from our deck...turned into a tree castle...um...turned into a tree fortress. I get nervous when the two boys are searching the computer and conspiring about zip-lines and climbing walls.

A Good Man

2011-03-22T12:56:00.000-07:00

I am so lucky to have not one, but two, handymen around the house. My personal chef truly possesses a diverse skill-set.

From making soup...

To fixing the plumbing.

Comic K

2011-03-20T10:24:00.000-07:00

My son has been loving graphic stories and comics these days. The other day, I loosely drew some boxes in my sketch book and he went wild. The story-telling was riveting, the cast of characters dynamic. All I had to do was add the voice boxes in after he was finished.

Oh! The drama! The excitement!

He chattered away to himself the entire time he was drawing. When it came time to add the words, he knew exactly who would say what. So funny.

Surrounded by Angels

2011-03-18T10:24:00.000-07:00

For years, we've been on alert for seizures or any other neurological symptoms in our son. After eight months of no new seizure activity, no new tics, and no new concerns, we'd started to exhale...a little. As much as we exhale, anyway.

Then, just about two weeks ago, we woke up to find Kieran in a daze. He would alternate between vacant staring and terrified screaming. We thought his seizures had changed.

It turns out that his blood sugar was very low. The good news is that we don't think what he experienced was a neurological seizure but we have no explanation yet for why his blood sugar dropped dangerously low. After a panicked ambulance ride, we spent the day in emergency and were sent home to wait for further testing.

The next day, as I nursed my shattered nerves, Kieran moved around the backyard methodically making these snow angels. In the end, there were about a dozen. It's a funny thing but I took great comfort in this army of angels created by a little boy so full of fight.

Book Signing and Reading

2011-02-21T18:21:00.000-08:00

Come one, come all!

Be at the Wedgewood in downtown Brockville on Wednesday, February 23 at 3:00pm.

I'll be reading from my new book, Cameron's Corner.

I'll also answer questions and sign books.

It's gonna be a party! Hope to see you there!

The Tyranny of the Flu

2011-02-15T16:30:00.000-08:00

So...I was just bragging the other day about how long it's been since I've have the flu. Of course, I promptly came down with the worst cast of the flu I've had in recent memory. I compare the experience to the life-sucking machine in The Princess Bride. For several days, all that worked was my brain--while my aching limbs became useless appendages, I was still able to issue various commands from the couch.

Put the kettle on!

Go buy lozenges!

Warm me some broth!

Get me a blanket!

My husband contentedly went about caring for me as I peered at him through swollen red eyes and spoke through fever-dried lips. It wasn't pretty. Even when I woke him from a dead sleep at 11:00pm to go buy me some cough syrup, he didn't complain.

I know it was like living under a tyrannical dictatorship.

And then Kieran got sick.

If I was tyrannical, Kieran was ruthless.

Read to me!

Read to me some more!

Dance the Fox Trot! (really)

Read to me!

He didn't care that my throat was so sore each story was like munching on a bowl of razor blades. Read, I did.

Anyway, we're on the mend. It's been a long haul but we're all working together to get well...and praying that Mike doesn't get this.

Amy Chua: Tiger Mother

2011-01-31T17:23:00.000-08:00

I really like Amy Chua. People who have read my columns and my blog might be shocked by that. I don't agree with her on many things but I admire the value she brings to mothering. She stands up and declares that mothering is hard work, that we need to believe in our kids, and that it's okay to have high expectations. Furthermore, I think she's pretty funny.

While I will never force my son to play the piano for three hours a day or deny him playdates, I agree with her that hard work makes things enjoyable. Self-esteem and confidence don't come from our words. Whether we're parents or teachers, we can't speak those qualities into our children. Children believe in themselves when they accomplish things. These accomplishments can be as simple as sewing on a button or as dramatic as getting a touchdown. In Ms. Chua's case, it's playing at Carnegie Hall. In my case, my son's love of literature is important. Do these things reflect our own interests as parents? Of course. But, it's what I have to offer my child. It's natural that we share our gifts and interests with our children. And then, when they're old enough, they'll find their own way, but they'll have a solid foundation. They'll know what it's like to care about something.

When Kieran was a baby and so much of the advice I received was absolute, I chanted the mantra in my head: there are many ways to raise a child. I thank Amy Chua for reminding us of that. I thank her for getting us thinking about the impact of our words and actions (or lack thereof). I thank her for caring about mothering.

If you haven't already, make sure you read her essay--and the comments that follow. She'll infuriate and inspire. She certainly doesn't deserve death threats...but I guess it's good for book sales.

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704111504576059713528698754.html?mod=WSJ_article_related

There is a Bird on Your Head!

2011-01-30T18:36:00.000-08:00

Elephant and Piggie crack us up. They are funny, earnest, dedicated companions. In this book, a bird lands on Elephant's head and Piggie helps him reconcile this uncomfortable fate. Mo Willem is an award-winning writer and illustrator. A Caledott winner for his books, he's also won several Emmys for his work on shows such as Seasame Street.

As you can see, we're into comedic books these days...

Zoom

2011-01-27T17:35:00.000-08:00

We are loving Zoom the cat these days. Written by Tim Wynne-Jones, these books carry the reader through imaginative worlds. The pencil sketches are filled with surprising detail that my son examines while I read. I espeically love the portrayal of Egpyt. The three Zoom titles--Zoom, Zoom at Sea, and Zoom Away--have been published by Groundwood Books in one collection. This collection feels like something we might be reading fifty or one hundred years from now. Love this discovery!

Cathy Cavanagh

2011-01-25T20:04:00.000-08:00

Cathy Cavanagh will be reading from her book Soul Side at the Wedgewood tomorrow at 3:00pm.

Her writing challenges, comforts, and inspires.

Oh, and she's awesome.

For Mrs. Harvey

2011-01-19T17:52:00.000-08:00

When my mom read my recently published collection of columns, I asked her what she thought. She paused. It didn't feel like a good pause.

"There's something missing," she said.

"What?" I asked, my stomach turning.

"Well, I can't believe you haven't mentioned Mrs. Harvey."

Mrs. Harvey.

School wasn't my thing. For many years, particularly in high school, I found it frustrating, confusing, and boring. In math class, I tried so hard to focus, but my mind would wander. I'd understand the first few steps of a problem, but once I reached an obstacle, my comprehension unravelled. I'd stare at the list of questions, knowing that if I couldn't do the first one, I couldn't do the rest. I thought I was stupid.

Passionate about things like history and art, I read avidly at home but scraped by at school. I was in some academic (advanced) and some applied (general) classes. I didn't really consider going to university--it didn't seem like an option.

I entered Grade Twelve, feeling a little nauseated when our guidance counsellors started talking about "the future." I had no idea what I wanted to do.

On my first day of Senior English, I appraised my new teacher. A streak of white blazed through her dark curly hair. She wore Birkenstocks and a funky dress. She laughed easily and revealed a genuine passion for teaching. I listened as she went over the course outline. She expected a lot and I wondered if I shouldn't switch to another class. But something made me want to stay.

The classroom promised adventure. Mrs. Harvey had positioned a dead tree at the front of the room, its branches casting twisted shadows across her lectern. Images of Picasso's "Three Musicians" and characters from Greek Mythology decorated the walls. A mournful painting of Prometheus watching his liver be devoured by an eagle captured my imagination. His agonized face etched the definition of hubris onto my mind. Cassettes of Leonard Cohen and Dylan Thomas lined the shelf beside the tape player. Student artwork and poetry found places alongside "the greats." It seemed like an interesting spot and Mrs. Harvey's eccentric enthusiasm made me wonder if I might learn something.

There are things I don't remember about the day I got my first assignment back in that class. I don't remember where I sat in the room. I don't remember what I was wearing. I don't even remember what the assignment was about or the grade I received. But I do remember that Mrs. Harvey's comment was written in green ballpoint pen. And I know that it changed the course of my life.

The comment said: "I hope you plan to pursue English at the post-secondary level."

Well, then. Maybe I wasn't stupid.

Mrs. Harvey told me I was good at writing and whether or not that was actually true, she ignited a little spark that urged me to make something of myself. Thinking that I had ability made me realize it was worthwhile to work at it.

Work at it, I did. Over the school year, we read challenging texts, wrote poetry, composed essays, and discussed the human condition. She was ruthless about grammar and style. Suddenly, the humble comma exuded power if strategically placed. I felt awake, alive, and challenged.

While I came from a loving and supportive home, it was the encouragement of a teacher that pushed me in the right direction, confirming that it really does take a village to raise a child. It's something that we adults need to remember. Whether we are boss, teacher, coach, or mentor to youth, our words prove powerful.

It's not about indulging kids with false hope and inflated entitlement. It's about seeing something real, recognizing it, and telling them. The feeling of having another adult--other than my parents who loved me unconditionally--recognize my potential not only made me work harder, it made me believe in myself. It made me a better person.

Have I told Mrs. Harvey about the impact she's had on my life? Yes. Several times. But it's been a number of years now. I just might send her a copy of this column.

If anyone finds any grammatical errors, please let me know.

Really.

This has not been a great day. At least Mr. Tyler will appear on American Idol tonight. It might make that show tolerable.

Resolutions

2011-01-16T19:07:00.000-08:00

I didn't make any New Years resolutions yet this year. Hmmm...

I try to avoid "self-improvement" resolutions. They just make me feel crummy. Who wants to lose weight or save money? Too much pressure. Making the resolution draws attention to the problem. Then, when I fail to fix myself, I feel like I suck even more. Why bother? I prefer denial and I'm happier (and curvier) for it.

Over the years, I've made some obscure resolutions. I've resolved to start a compost, buy more local food, learn to knit, write a novel...all of which I've done. Because they're not really about me. It's easier to commit to something that isn't about me...and then, in the end, it is about me. Also, these things are all easier than running a marathon.

As I write this, Findley purrs in my lap. I ask him what I should do and he ignores me.

Here goes:

1) Get a clothesline and a water barrel.

2) Read more. Maybe Findley wasn't ignoring me. He was guiding my attention towards my books with his thoughtful gaze.

3) Find a sport Kieran and I can do together...like rock climbing...or something...

4) Write a novel. Again.

5) Laugh more.

This Year...It's Four in the Morning

2011-01-11T17:30:00.000-08:00

The thing I hate most about going back to work after a holiday is the return of MORNINGS! No matter how organized I am or how early I start, the last few minutes always delay a perfectly timed departure. There is a young saboteur in my life!

This morning, as I was rushing around, trying not to raise my voice, I realized how unhinged I must have sounded to a little boy who just wants to play. I was reminded of this column from last year. I don't think I ever posted it here. It's in my collection of columns.

Three in the Morning

Finish your breakfast. Brush your teeth. Hurry up. I have to get to work. Put on your hat. Come back here. No, I don't have time to be a polar bear. We have to go. I'm going to be late. I love you, too. Your hair's a mess. I said, come here. You're going to spill my coffee. Okay, now put on your boots. Let's go, love. Get in the car. Oh, please don't sit on the ground--you're not wearing snow pants. I said, get in the car! There goes my coffee. Sigh.

The day begins...

It wasn't until I wrote it all out in one paragraph that I realized how irrational my morning tirade must sound to a three year old. Pre-child, I used to actually think my morning routine was rushed. Now, it's nothing short of insane.

And yes, we follow all of the advice so liberally shared in parenting magazines. We get up twenty minutes earlier (most days). I make lunches the night before. The bags are packed and at the door. We have lots of quick and healthy breakfast options. But all the preparation in the world can't account for a three year old who realizes he has some power over his mama. He knows I have to get to work, and he knows that drama ensues when he clomps through the living room in his dirty boots.

There was nothing different about my routine the other day. I chanted my morning mantra of madness as I tried to wrestle my son into his winter clothes. The furrow in my brow deepened as I raced towards our caregiver's place. Kieran chattered away in the backseat, asking me question after question, which I answered with robotic predictability.

"When's my birthday, mommy?"

"May."

"How old will I be?"

"You're three now. So what's next?"

"Four. I'll be four."

I turned the corner, taking the first sip from my half-empty travel mug. I glanced at the clock. We were running five minutes behind.

And then...

"Mommy? When will I be three again?"

"Oh...um...never...you'll only be three once."

Oh, dear.

We arrived at our wonderful caregiver's house, my eyes red and watery. I paused a little longer as I kissed my son good-bye.

As if this working mom needs to feel more guilty, more torn, than I already do.
But, the funny thing is, I didn't feel guilty.

Not about this, at least.

I have loved the exuberance, imagination, and fickle tyranny of age three. But, I also loved the affection, energy, and intensity of age two. I know there will be things about four that make it my favourite age.

So, while I don't feel guilty, I do feel a little sad. With each year, things change, independence grows, making me glad I followed the advice of so many other parents who told me to enjoy my son while he was young. Enjoy him, I have. Three has not passed me by. And, as we close in on four, I know it won't either.

Maintaining balance takes mindful effort. Sometimes the house is a mess. Sometimes I'm frazzled when I arrive at work. Sometimes I feel like I'm doing too many things and none of them well. There are days when I drop everything to read to Kieran, but there are also times when I tell him to go play because I have work to do. That's life.

It's the impermanence of childhood that makes it so wonderful. And this isn't just Kieran's journey. It's mine too. He'll only be three once, but I'll only be mother to this particular boy, at this particular age, once. So, in between my warnings about spilled coffee and messy hair, I remember to breathe.

Breathe.

And enjoy the last magical months of three.

Even in the morning.

The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

2011-01-08T17:35:00.000-08:00

I'm trying hard not to read right now. I'm on Catching Fire, book two of the Hunger Games Trilogy. I don't want to read because that's ALL I'll do for the rest of the night and I have some things to do. And really, I don't want it all to be over just yet. I was up until 1:00am two nights ago. I love/hate it when this happens.

Here's what I like about these books:

1) post-apocalyptic setting

2) greater themes regarding social justice and distribution of wealth

3) male and female characters are layered, compelling, and mysterious--I can imagine teaching this to a class--both genders would relate

4) violence and danger

5) explore the ethical implications of reality television

6) we get to cheer for the reluctant, adolescent subversive as she defies an authoritarian regime

7) imaginative detail regarding botany and herbal healing

8) cool character names like Gale, Rue, and Glimmer

9) Ms. Collins isn't afraid to kill sympathetic characters

10) THERE'S A LOVE TRIANGLE...TEAM GALE!

I'm just going to go have a "peek" at the next chapter. See you in a few days.

Sock Entitlement

2011-01-06T17:32:00.000-08:00

So, our dear Nanny and Poppy came to visit at Christmas. Of course, I got myself in way over my head by starting to knit my dad a pair of sock with VERY thin wool.

On Christmas Day, he got to open one sock. The other was in my lap, unfinished.

He was quite patient about the whole thing and my mom says he wears them all the time.

Kieran had to rub it in that he has not just ONE pair of homemade socks, but FOUR.

Can anyone else see the "sock entitlement" of my boy's stance? Poppy is much more humble. His is the stance of "he who owns one pair." Even if the toes are oddly pointy...

Making Things Happen: Crystle Mazurek and Catherine Cavanagh

2011-01-06T17:07:00.000-08:00

I'm so proud of my friends, Crystle and Cathy, for their latest achievements. We started meeting as a writing group a few years back. We sat in our living rooms, reading each other's work, and providing feedback. The thing I knew about these women is that they'd give me their honest opinion. Now, all three of us have completed our books. Cathy's is about faith. Crystle's is about India. Mine is about parenting. Our topics are so different but we are united in our desire to tell stories...and by our love of good food and drink. It's amazing what can happen when chai and chocolate are involved.

Crystle Mazurek

Crystle recently returned from India where she spent several months working for her NGO, The India Village Fund. Her book, Mommy,When Are We Going Home? will be released in February 2011. Here is the latest article about her in The Brockville Recorder and Times.

http://www.recorder.ca/ArticleDisplay.aspx?archive=true&e=2910897

Here is the link to The India Village Fund:

http://www.indiavillagefund.org/

Catherine Cavanagh

Catherine Cavanagh placed second in this year's Brockville Recorder and Times Short Story Contest. Here is her beautiful and compelling story "Hagar."

http://www.recorder.ca/ArticleDisplay.aspx?archive=true&e=2916982

Now Available for Purchase...

2011-01-05T10:36:00.000-08:00

For those outside of Brockville who wish to purchase my book, you can order through Paypal and have it in a couple of days.

Look to the right...

A Poem

2011-01-04T17:49:00.000-08:00

S-21
by Andrea Cameron

I spent an hour with you today.
I walked through
claustrophobic caverns,
my footsteps resounding
in the temple of your hideous secret.

I looked through your barbed wire smile
and stared shamelessly
at your treasure of skulls,
your collection of souls,
taken in terror.

You offer me a tiny shoe,
boast with your photo exibit,
brandish tools of torture,
invite me inside
to gape at your ghastly trophies.

I spent only an hour with you,
and your six thousand faces,
wide-eyed and battered,
their only memorial
trapped behind your rusty grin.

In 1997, I went to Cambodia for Christmas. Just after New Year's, I went to S-21. Formerly Tuol Svay Prey High School in Phnom Penh, this building was turned into a prison in 1975. It was renamed Security Prison (S-21) and was also known as Tuol Sleng. Approximately 20,000 people were detailed in S-21 before being murdered by the Khmer Rouge. Now, the prison walls are covered with thousands of black and white photographs of prisoners, all of whom were killed. There were only seven known survivors.

I wrote this poem shortly after the visit. It was published in Room Magazine a few years ago. I'm glad I wrote this so I wouldn't forget the things I saw.

Congratulations to Patsy Aldana

2011-01-03T18:34:00.000-08:00

Patsy Aldana, publisher of Groundwood Books, was named a member of the Order of Canada last week. I'm grateful to all that she's done to bring quality literature to young readers. She's concerned that children and youth seem to be deriving less pleasure from reading. Ms. Aldana questions our focus on literacy as a skill for the workplace rather than on nurturing reading for enjoyment. She asserts that reading can heal. It can make us understand the motivations of others.

Here's her quote in today's Globe and Mail: "If you become a reader, you have a chance to become a critical thinker, to be a person who has some power over your life."

Our family has enjoyed many of the titles from Groundwood. Our latest read is Doggie in the Window by Elaine Arsenault. Our signed copy was a gift when Kieran was a baby. He loves this story of a costume designing dog.

http://www.groundwoodbooks.com/gw_titles.cfm?pub_id=328

In the area of young adult, I loved Skim, a graphic novel by Mariko Tamaki. We are also big fans of the Stella books by Marie-Louise Gay.

Anything...

2011-01-01T18:30:00.000-08:00

I'm pleased to announce that this New Year's was preferable to last New Year's. Last year, Kieran had a seizure just before supper on New Year's Eve. I know it's just a random day of the year and the calendar is a human fabrication; HOWEVER, it just felt a little inauspicious.

Just a little.

So...last night we celebrated early with friends and had a great time. It's amazing to me that, given the material overindulgence of the Christmas season, two little boys can still lose their sh-t over party hats and noise-makers. Oh...and Madonna...REAL LOUD! Lots of fun.

And while I always feel optimistic for the new year, my heart aches for those who won't be with us...and for those who have battles ahead. It's a strange time, this New Year's thing. It's a day when we're supposed to think about losing weight and saving money, but it scares me a little. We have this whole other year ahead. And anything can happen. Anything.

So...here's to anything.

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-24T09:00:00.000-08:00

The Christmas Concert:
By Andrea Cameron

We stood outside the doors, speaking in hushed tones, our palms sweating. We checked and double-checked our camera batteries. Older children clomped around in snow-boots and a kind volunteer offered us snacks. I tried to peer between the curtains to catch a glimpse of the other side. When the doors opened, we surged into the room, straining our necks to spot our children.

And there they were, fourteen little kids all seated on the stage, hands folded in their laps. My son saw me and grinned, trying to control the urge to jump up and wave. At that moment, I--along with an army of other doting parents--had been initiated into a new world, the world of The Children's Christmas Concert.

It's not that I'm a stranger to this concept. As a teacher, I've organized Christmas performances. My favourite memory is of our school concert in Grise Fiord, Nunavut. Kindergarten to Grade Twelve were involved. We even had to build our own stage and make our own curtains. We line-danced, sang, played the drums, and performed skits. I was stressed beyond belief with the preparation but it was a magical evening I'll never forget. Consequently, I relate completely to the furrowed brow, the hoarse voice, and the joyful smiles of my fellow teachers at this time of year.

However, having never been a parent in the audience, I had no idea what happens on the other side. I was more nervous than if it had been me about to perform. The sound from our video taken that night is filled with the proud comments and knowing laughter from my husband and me.

When our son decided to deliver his own "Heavy Metal" performance during Feliz Navidad, I can hear our embarrassed snickers. We've seen this performance many times at home and knew our boy loved having a captive audience for his rock star moment. Yet when he twirled with his classmates in their ice skating scene, there's silence from us--we were both dabbing our eyes.

The show was just under thirty minutes, but there was enough drama and comedy to rival any production I've seen. There were sleigh bells and reindeer antlers. There was a tricycle sleigh and a sock horse. The girls curtseyed and the boys bowed. I marvelled at how every school the nation over has achieved such feat of organization this year...and every year.

There is something about a children's Christmas concert that makes me have faith in the world. Thank you to all the educators and helpers who make this happen every year. Thank you to our community's children for sharing your hard work with us. Merry Christmas to all!

My new book, Cameron's Corner: Collected Columns has just been released. Covering everything from potty learning to politics, it makes a great read for the holidays. Copies are available at Leeds County Books, Dreamweaver, The Woolly Lamb, and Wendy's Country Market.

Article from Living in Brockville

2010-12-23T09:00:00.000-08:00

Singing in the Season
by Andrea Cameron

I can't get away with singing my muddled Christmas carols anymore. Inserting a "da, da, dum" in place of a line I can't remember doesn't cut it with a certain four year old.

For many years, I had a rule that there could be no Christmas decorations or carols until the beginning of Advent. I kept this rule to make Christmas special. I worry that if we celebrate Christmas for too long, it becomes ordinary. I never want to walk past my tree and not notice it because it's been up for so long. Besides, how depressing would it be for Christmas decorations to get dusty?

Two factors have made this rule hard to follow. I have a four year old who really knows what this whole Christmas deal is about. Compounding this issue is the arrival of Christmas paraphernalia in the stores before Halloween. How do I explain to my dazzled son that Christmas is still two months away when battery-operated Santas are dancing while we grocery shop?

I resisted the Christmas decorating until the last week of November. However, we started to sing Christmas songs shortly after Remembrance Day. Christmas carols are free and explore the true meaning of Christmas without materialism--at least they do when one actually knows the words.

We tracked down a Christmas carol book and over the past few weeks, I've made an effort to learn them. Their lullaby-quality and clean poetry make them a pleasure to sing--and put my son to sleep in minutes. But this is not before he issues his litany of critiques and demands. Sing the one about the Baby Jesus. Sing Silent Night. Sing the King song higher. I feel like a court jester trying to please a tyrannical king. I'm glad we started early. I have a lot of lyrics to learn.

My son rarely sings. I sing to him all the time, but I can hardly ever convince him to join in. However, a few nights ago, after a particularly firm request for Deck the Halls, his quiet voice joined me at Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la. I didn't acknowledge it, afraid to break the spell.

It's continued to happen each night. As I sing, he too learns the songs. Every now and then, he joins me. Singing is not a milestone that is typically emphasized on developmental check-lists. Having had a child who's milestones were all over the map, those lists are burned into my brain, along with the anxiety they induced. Needless to say, the singing is important.

As Kieran and I lie in the dark, singing our carols, I think of how Christmas is more than a celebration. It's also a clear way to mark the passage of time. We think of where we were the year before and where we are now. We think of people who have left us and those who have entered our lives. It can be the saddest time of year for some and the happiest time for others. We sing songs that are hundreds of years old in honour of a long ago birth and in doing so, connect to the generations before us.

One Day Til Christmas Break!

2010-12-22T19:09:00.000-08:00

Here's our gluten-free gingerbread house. We decorated with dried cranberries and green pumpkin seeds...and lots of icing.

One of many EPIC receipts from my our canned food drive. My class raised over 1300 and our school raised 50, 000!

Solstice Celebration

Book Signing

2010-12-17T09:05:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is our big day.

Cathy and I hope you can all join us at

Leeds County Books,

73 King St W. Brockville.

Stop by tomorrow between 11:00am - 1:00pm.

Pick up a book, get it signed, or just say hey.

Christmas Knitting

2010-12-16T08:45:00.000-08:00

Shhhhhhh...

Christmas Concert

2010-12-15T08:36:00.000-08:00

I've entered a new world--the world of the children's Christmas concert. Wow! I can't believe that these events go on every year, all over town, and I had no idea the hilarity so close to home. There was a tricycle sleigh, a sock horse, bells, dancing, twirling, curtsying, and bowing. My life is forever changed.

The Writers Ink Short Story Contest

2010-12-13T10:31:00.000-08:00

Here are the winners of the Writers Ink Short Story Contest sponsored by Leeds County Books and The Brockville Recorder and Times. From left to right:

Dorothy Bush: Third Place
Chris Wilson: Wendy Patrick Award
Micki Harper: First Place
Catherine Cavangh: Second Place
Andrea Cameron: Wendy Patrick Award
Bunty Loucks: Founder of Writers Ink
Don Glover: Honourable Mention

P.S. I love Cathy's boots.

A Morning at Wendy's Country Market

2010-12-11T17:12:00.000-08:00

My books arrived last night. I'm so pleased with them. The paper is right. The cover is exactly as I imagined. Even the binding feels like quality. Despite all of this, I still sat up until midnight a little panicked that I had spent a goodly sum of our hard-earned money to self-publish my columns. All of that changed this morning when Wendy's Country/Mobile Market called to order a bunch. We decided to take a family trip out to Lyndhurst.

Mike, Rick, and Kieran explored while I made book arrangements.

A sign (no pun) that winter has settled in to stay.

A dream come true...

My little books look so at home here among the pottery and rustic wooden box.

I hope they're not so at home that they stay around long!

Another reason why I love this place: REAL FOOD!

Preparations and Books

2010-12-06T18:45:00.000-08:00

I love the Christmas season. I just don't like the first week or two of December when I have to address Christmas cards and organize packages for mailing--this year I added knitting projects to my list of things that need to be completed. Once I get those things off, I can enjoy the thought of them arriving to loved ones...on time...something I'm not always so good at.

We're busy preparing around here. The lights are up. The tree is decorated. I even made some gluten-free shortbread with maple sugar and they're good. Really good. Objectively good.

Christmas Wreath

One of our card designs this year. Kieran wants to make cards for everyone he knows. He's already made ten. I'm impressed. Granted, he doesn't fuss as much as I do.

Excited Christmas tree dance

This is apparently a human body. The cylinders are lungs. The cube on top is a heart. The tall tower is a leg. The long, green rectangle is an anatomical snuffbox. Can you tell my boy is no stranger to physiotherapy?

Oh, and my book, Cameron's Corner, and my friend Cathy Cavanagh's book, Soul Side, will be available this weekend for purchase.

Look for us at the Brockville Famers' Market this Sunday and next and at Leeds County Books on December 18th from 11:00am to 1:00pm.

My book will also be available HERE for purchase starting this weekend.

Cameron's Corner: Collected Columns

2010-11-18T17:07:00.000-08:00

I am pleased to announce the publication of my collection of columns. This book will contain thirty-five of my pieces.

It will be available by December 4th through this blog.

Keep it in mind for Christmas!

Stay tuned for more information regarding my launch and readings.

Eat Local Challenge

2010-11-10T18:11:00.001-08:00

Eat Local Challnege is a documentary series that follows Eastern Ontario families and individuals as they challenge themselves to 7 days of eating only foods grown and raised locally. Learn more about eating seasonally, supporting local farmers, and reducing your carbon footprint.

The television premiere of the documentary series Eat Local Challenge will be Thursday November 11th at 8:00 pm on TVCOGECO Kingston cable channel 13, Brockville cable channel 10, and Smith Falls cable channel 10. The program will also air on TVCOGECO Belleville plus TVCOGECO Video on Demand later in the month of November.

The Cameron-Shea family along with a number of our St. Mary students are in this documentary. It's an issue we're all passionate about and we can't wait to see it.

Oh, and don't forget to order your delicious, local food from Wendy's Mobile Market. It's one of our favourite ways to grocery shop.

Let's Do Better

2010-11-04T18:00:00.000-07:00

I'll never forget Shawn. It was early on in my teaching career and he was one of those students with such natural leadership, such creative energy, I knew he was destined for great things.

One Monday, he came to school with a black eye, wincing in pain as he moved.

"What happened?" I asked.

His friend answered for him. "He got beaten up because he's gay."

Shawn smiled at me and shrugged. "I'm used to it."

It was a powerful lesson. He was so well-liked, so charismatic, I had no idea that someone would want to shatter him because of his sexuality. I thought the world had changed.

I grew up in a small town. I didn't know anyone who was openly gay. In high school, meeting a gay person would have been as unusual as encountering a unicorn in science class.

So when a good friend came out to me in university, I didn't know what to do. I felt like everything would be different, like our friendship would change. But, it didn't. Life went on. I watched her live her life and concluded that the world must be a more accepting place than I thought.

Over the years, I've had many LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bi-Sexual, Transgender) friends, students, neighbours, colleagues, and employers. I've listened to them describe the moment they came out to their parents. Some were supported unconditionally while others felt their parents may have been less devastated had they died. Some have been in decades-long relationships, others hope to meet "the one," and still others choose to be alone. Like everyone else, my gay friends lead diverse lives.

But they have one thing in common: their bravery. It takes bravery to stand up and say who one is in a world that is not always accepting. It takes bravery to reveal to one's parents something that may push them away forever. It takes bravery to walk down the street knowing there's hatred in the world.

That's why I'm so grateful to Dan Savage for starting the "It Gets Better" campaign. In response to a rash of suicides by bullied gay youth across the United States, he asked LGBT adults to tell kids that things get better. Thousands of videos are posted on his website of people describing life in high school, coming out to parents and community, and how they carried on. Ultimately, they let youth know that despite the challenges, life is good.

Isn't that our job as adults? To inspire children and youth to grow up and lead a rewarding life? By letting our gay youth know that we support them, we send that message to all youth. We make the world a better place. We're being watched. The bullies watch us. They learn from us. So, do the bullied. We can pretend that our hands are tied by policy and politics, but kids see through that. They need us to be brave, too.

LGBT youth are three times more likely to experience bullying in school and one-third of all LGBT youth have attempted suicide. This is the reality. We're failing these kids. Time and time again.

So much is at stake. The young heroes in our midst, the ones who are fighting just to be themselves, need us. They need to feel supported and celebrated. If we really care about kids, there's one simple thing we can do. Our words and actions must reflect compassion, understanding, and joy. Because while things definitely get better, we still have long way to go.

Halloween's Sugar Demon ;-)

2010-10-20T19:51:00.000-07:00

Images of Halloween are giving me chills this year. It's not the witches, skeletons, or tombstones that have me shaking--it's the processed sugar and gluten. Piles of it will assault us over the coming weeks, and somehow, I'll have to convince my sugar-free, gluten-free child that he can't eat it.

Some people roll their eyes at parents who are selective about their children's diets, but they're not the ones who live with the consequences. A gluten-sensitive child becomes unwell after the consumption of wheat. Children with neurological problems (and even neuro-typical children) can become agitated after a good sugar buzz. Whether a food allergy causes an anaphylactic reaction or a sensitivity causes stomach pain, the state of our food supply leaves many families struggling to keep their children well.

In past years, my son was young enough that I could scoop his candy when we got home. A year ago, he was assuaged by home-made pumpkin muffins. Now, even though his indulgence is rare, he's an avid chocoholic . When his teacher asked him what vegetable he'd bring to contribute to the class pot of soup, he insisted that he'd bring chocolate. How am I going to manage the candy issue this year?

There were no forbidden foods in my childhood home. My folks happily embraced the joys of Kraft Dinner, Sloppy Joes, and Cheese Whiz on Wonder Bread. As a result, I no longer trust foods that require capitalization. In high school, my best friend (whose mother made bread from scratch) and I would swap lunches. I would have traded my nitrate-saturated Hot Rod for her bran muffin any day and she happily obliged, eager to have a taste of processed meat product. I wonder...will Kieran be the kid who trades my labour-intensive, gluten-free banana bread for his buddy's Joe Louis? By forbidding certain foods, do we run the risk of making them more appealing?

I definitely think so. However, I don't really have a choice. I'd rather have a kid who sneaks a treat now and then (and experiences the unfortunate consequences) than to have him chronically unwell.

But it's not just food-sensitive kids who are affected. Celebrity paediatrician, Dr. Bob Sears, claims that the two weeks after Halloween are the busiest in his office. He attributes this to the excessive consumption of processed sugar, an immune suppressant. Maybe we all need to rethink the gratuitous use of candy at this otherwise enjoyable time of year.

As we discuss my son's latest costume idea--this week, he wants to be a pirate--I wonder if it's fair to let him trick-or-treat only to take most of his treats. Now that he's aware of candy, and longs for it, trick-or-treating seems cruel. Granted, there are many thoughtful neighbours who know our son and have different options: play dough, stickers, pencils, story books, toothbrushes.

Some people are opting out of the candy madness, holding parties at their homes instead. I've considered this, but I think trick-or-treating is about more than candy. It's the thrill of dressing up and going out in the crisp fall air. It's the excitement of going door-to-door and seeing the decorating efforts of our community. It's the buzz in the air as ghosts and goblins surge up and down the sidewalks.

I've found other solutions that I hope will work such as using candy as currency for non-food items. We will also cut down on the number of houses visited and make sure tummies are full by inviting friends over for pizza beforehand. And there are other ways for treats to dwindle before a young pirate can take inventory of his treasure...

So count us in for trick-or-treating. Bring on the candy--I've got a plan. That's what moms are for.

Good-Bye Summer

2010-10-07T10:20:00.000-07:00

So, summer's long behind us. We had a great last few weeks and life got so busy with back-to-school that I didn't have time to post some of my favourite photos. We spent a few days at Sauble Beach and once home, "put up" some food. There's been knitting, too.

For my mom...

We always seem to bring windy, chilly weather to Sauble whenever we visit. So...we made a non-beach day into a beach day by flying a kite.

Boy ~ Dad ~ Poppy

Tomato Sauce: This year I had two sauce-making companions. Good times.

Corn

My boy modelling girls' socks...who will be the lucky recipient?

The Garden of Neglect

2010-10-06T19:10:00.000-07:00

For the past three years, I've been experimenting with backyard vegetable gardening. My first year, I had great success with salad greens, swiss chard, and carrots. I planted them in a raised container in our small yard. I only had enough carrots to make one pot of soup, but goodness, I was proud of it. My second year, we grew salad tomatoes in upside down hanging containers. It was so satisfying to grab a handful of fresh tomatoes for dinner.

This year, knowing we were going away for several weeks, I tried to plant things that didn't need a lot of attention: squash, watermelon, late tomatoes, and peppers. When I ordered my seedlings, I specified that I wanted plants that could survive my Garden of Neglect. The combination of great summer weather and friends who took care of my plants while we were away, secured us a respectable bounty.

I worried that my plants wouldn't survive while we were away. However, when we pulled in the driveway, it took me a moment to realize that the huge plant covering my entire front garden was actually a tomato plant. I'd thrown it in there because I didn't have enough room in the back. Now my clematis cowered in the shadow of robust and lush yellow heritage tomato vine.

Rambling squash vines covered a corner of the backyard. A pepper plant was laden with little red chillis. Four huge potato plants and several onions spouted from the compost. There was even a watermelon that grew despite a less-than-ideal location.

Before we'd even unpacked the car, I was out surveying the garden. I picked what was ripe: a few peppers and two tomatoes.

"Mommy's a farmer," my son announced to his father and our cat.

I laughed. I know it's not that easy. Food production is serious business indeed. I'm just playing with gardening. It takes real risk and real knowledge to grow food.

However, even though the yields are small, backyard gardens are important.

Experimenting with food production on a small scale makes one appreciate what it actually takes to do it for a living. I believe it makes people more inclined to buy locally grown produce because they acquire a taste for fresher, more nutritious food. Eating a still-warm tomato that ripened on the vine makes the woody, pink globes offered in January a travesty.

Today's backyard gardens play a similar role to Victory Gardens. The intention then was to preserve resources for the war effort. Now, we can garden to save the planet and our own health. The food requires no fossil fuel to be delivered and it's healthier because you can't find any fresher. If seeds are selected wisely and practices are kept organic, the average person has more control over his or her consumption of GMOs and pesticides.

Growing food in the backyard connects us to the earth. I've written before about how we have to be involved in our outdoor environment to actually care about it. Using our suburban yards more mindfully to grow food rather than grass connects us to the rhythms of nature.

Whether we nurture a few herbs in a pot or plant enough tomatoes to can sauce, using our yards to grow food nurtures body, soul, and planet.

Rett Syndrome Golf Tournament

2010-09-10T11:22:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is the seventh annual Rett Syndrome Golf Tournament at the Cedar Valley Golf Club in Brockville.The proceeds will go to the Jessica Carr Endowment Fund at CHEO. This tournament has raised $180,000 to help the Eastern Ontario Rett Syndrome Chapter. They have also established a fund at CHEO and contribute to advanced research at Sick Kids in Toronto.

While the deadline has passed to register a team, donations are always welcome. Mail your donation to:

Cedar Valley Golf and Country Club

PO Box 60012

Brockville, ON

K6V 7M9

For more information, call 613-342-2158

For more information on Rett Syndrome:

www.rett.ca

Garden Update

2010-09-02T19:16:00.000-07:00

I didn't plan well when it came to my vegetable garden this year. I ordered some seedlings back in the winter when I thought our backyard would be finished in early spring. Well...after weeks of rain, that didn't happen. As, I watched my tomato seedlings reach my waist, I had to plant them in a less-than-ideal place. They get about enough sun for a hosta to thrive. Surprisingly, they have thrived (must be the great seedlings I bought from Blue Mountain Gardens).

So, thanks to the help of friends who checked in on my plants and to our landscaper for setting up a watering system that conveniently hit the veggie garden, we have the following after a summer of abandonment:

one watermelon that increases in size daily (about the size of a soft ball)
countless green tomatoes of all kinds--I've had three yellow ones that are soooo sweet
several acorn squash
a dozen chili peppers
a few wee green peppers...please grow!
one glorious red pepper
some surprise potato plants that grew out of the compost
three lipstick peppers
lots of green basil--the red was shaded by a tomato plant
a CRAZY BIG rhubarb plant that I transplanted from the middle of our yard where it randomly grew in the spring

I'm just playing with this veggie garden thing, but it sure makes me respect the risk that farmers take to grow our food. I just got my first Wendy's Mobile Market order after our summer away. So much good stuff: blueberries, leeks, tomatoes, spinach, chicken, watermelon, carmelized onion cheese...I weep.

For Prince Edward Island

2010-08-26T06:40:00.000-07:00

This is the last time I'll lament our time on the Island...promise...

On the last day of our PEI summer holiday, my son gave me the gift of time and gratitude. The sun sparkled on the bay while gulls glided with the breeze. It was the kind of afternoon that seduces us into staying just a little longer. Instead of running around the yard, Kieran asked me if we could sit on the porch swing. I cast a reluctant glance at the cleaning and packing awaiting me in the cottage, but I agreed. We climbed up and snuggled in.

We rocked for over an hour. Certain he'd fallen asleep, I checked him several times but he just watched the sea. As my gaze followed his, I thought of our days spent on that shore-- playing in the sand, swimming with cousins, searching for starfish--and I realized the importance of place.

Prince Edward Island isn't my home--at least it's not my childhood home. I read the entire Anne of Green Gables series as a girl and I always vowed I'd one day live there. I didn't actually go until I was twenty-six after meeting my future husband, who happened to be an Islander. Since then, we've returned together every year, save one. Last summer, our son was too unwell to travel so we couldn't go. Sitting on that swing, I realized how much the island is under my skin and how it has been a place of healing for our family.

Missing a year made this homecoming more profound. Cousins were that much taller, the sparse raspberry canes along the shore now flourished, and the beaches had become even more alluring. There are things about the place that I would recognize were I suddenly dropped there blindfolded: the fresh energy of salt air, the applause of birch leaves in the breeze, the squawk of a blue heron at sunset.

Both my husband and I have travelled. Travel invites us to know ourselves and to understand others. We return changed and inspired. But it's just as important to be home every now and then. Home allows children to perceive the nuance of place--trees grow, shorelines erode, people change. Home reminds us of who we are and grounds us before we move on.

I thank PEI for all those things that bring us home. I thank PEI for the brilliant contrast between green grass, red sand, and blue water. I thank PEI for the primroses and moon snails. I thank PEI for the taste of mussels and blueberries-- just not together.

Most of all, I thank PEI for family and friends. Because, while the landscape pulls me back, makes me want to plant myself in that now familiar soil, the people both welcome us and bid us a farewell with the promise that we always have a safe place to land.

Maybe Kieran wanted one last chance to take it all in, this place that has become such a part of him. I needed that as much as he did.

Thanks again, dear island.

TV DETOX

2010-08-25T05:00:00.000-07:00

This column appeared in August 11 issue of The Observer.

Six years ago, as we put the finishing touches on the cottage we'd built ourselves, my husband and I declared it a TV-free zone. That was before we entered parenthood and realized the true meaning of sleep-deprivation. That was back in the day when I'd spend an entire afternoon reading a novel in the hammock without a four year old mauling me. Pre-child, it was easy to live at the cottage without television. We could take a walk, visit friends, go out for dinner, or even (gasp) catch a movie.

Now, staying at the cottage every evening, there's nothing but silence...and time.

There's always a settling-in period during a TV detox--kind of like the horrible feeling on the second day of a fast. For the first few evenings, whenever I sit down to knit, or read, or write, my husband will sit in the chair across from me, a foul expression on his face, like somehow I'm responsible for his boredom. I politely suggest that he go find a novel to read. His response is similar to a raging tiger who has just been offered tofu for lunch. He just misses his TV.

It's not that I don't enjoy television. It would be unwise to call my house during an episode of Glee or Trueblood. I even catch the odd Survivor finale. While I try to regulate my own television viewing, I know it's crucial to limit my son's. It's not that television is inherently worthless--I know he's learned things from Diego (like that a Pygmy Marmoset eats tree sap?) but I simply think there are better ways for a preschooler to spent his time: painting, socializing, running, imagining, eating dirt...

Following the American Paediatric Society Recommendation that children under two have no screen time at all, our son passed his toddlerhood without being introduced to Dora the Explorer. Then, when he was three, we allowed him to watch an hour of television per day.

At first.

The television started to creep into our lives more than I wanted it to. If I had to get ready for work, it was easier to put him in front of the screen. When we were packing for our move, I think we almost wore out the Cars DVD. He was watching more than an hour most days, and although I think there's some wonderful shows for preschoolers, that didn't sit right with me.

So it was with a brave face that we set out for our summer holiday without a television. We packed lots of games, puzzles, toys and art supplies and borrowed our friend's DVD player for rainy days.

But we've made it.

The DVD player has not been used. Rainy days are spent visiting, doing crafts, and reading. Somehow the dishes are washed (usually) and the laundry is done (usually). Our son has occupied himself with imaginative play much of the time.

Now, as he goes from playing with play dough to building with blocks, to running on his "race track" outside, to wrestling with cousins, to collecting his toys for the beach, I wonder how we had time for television before.

And I hope we don't make much time for it again. Life is too good without it.

Cool Socks

2010-08-24T04:45:00.000-07:00

I am pleased to announce the completion of a second pair of socks for my boy.

These are exceptionally cool.

Someone agrees.

The Lasts

2010-08-23T04:08:00.000-07:00

last story time

last sunset

last morning

(saying good-bye to the sea in various states of undress)

About Fire

2010-08-11T05:54:00.000-07:00

Because of Kieran's seizures, we get him to bed early ever night. Sleep is so important to any child with neurological issues. Even my Johns Hopkins guide to seizures and epilepsy in childhood states that rest and a good diet can't be underestimated in seizure prevention. As those who are close to us know, we're like Cinderella come 6:30pm. No late dinners for us. We always have to leave the ball. But the sad thing is that our boy doesn't get to experience things like sunsets and campfires.

Yesterday he napped from 3:30 to 4:30pm. Ugh! So we thought we'd keep him up for a fire--on the hottest day we've had so far. Anyway, he helped his dad start the fire and even roasted a wiener that he wouldn't eat.

He helped build the little log cabin and was fascinated that the fire would "eat" any of the things he threw in.

The older cousins have learned the power of a magnifying glass to start little fires. I remember the joy that this skill provided when I was a child. Thank goodness they haven't discovered the sadistic pleasure of ant-burning yet.

A Bit of History

2010-08-10T05:01:00.000-07:00

I always make fun of my husband for being cheap, but I secretly love (usually) how he can find uses for abandoned things. All of the doors in the cottage came from an old house on his parents' property. We spent days stripping and finishing them. I think it was worth it. The only problem is, we somehow managed to put one on upside down. The floor in this room is also made from old barn boards.

I'm sitting here looking at the beam fro Mike's Nanny's barn, thinking it's so cool to have that piece of history here in the cottage. My goodness, the floors look deceptively clean...

The Beach

2010-08-07T18:21:00.000-07:00

Is it possible to grow tired of the beach?

NOPE

Belfast Mini-Mills

2010-08-07T09:00:00.000-07:00

Knitting is a relatively new hobby for me. I used to do pottery but it takes me out of the house so much. Knitting is completely portable, it's social (eg. I can visit while I knit), and I can make gifts for people again, whether they like it or not.

I just drew my brother-in-law's name for Christmas. He's probably having nightmares about homemade sweater vests with matching neckties.

My husband is skeptical. I tend to get really enthusiastic about things (yoga, pottery, writing, kayaking...and now knitting). I still don't know how, but I convinced him to head up to Belfast Mini-Mills to go yarn shopping. We picked up Kieran's Grammy...and then our brother-in-law and all the cousins decided to come. In all, we had two women, two men, and five boys--maybe that's not the expected demographic for a knitting field trip but it worked out great. You see, with knitting comes farm animals.

Belfast Mini-Mills sells yarn that they produce from start to finish: cleaning, spinning, dyeing. They also have a little tea house that we didn't know about until we arrived. Oh well, we went to the drive-in restaurant in Montague...chocolate milkshake...mmmmm...

Are ewe feeling sheepish?

Such a "Lama Queen"

so many colours

Speaking of knitting, I just finished this little project called "Fresh Picked Baby Hat." I used Sublime Soy Cotton DK that I bought at Picket Fences in Brockville. Again, it's a baby hat and a four year old is wearing it...my tension is a little loose.

http://www.minimills.net/

Belfast Mini-Mills

1820 Garfield Road, RR#1

PEI, C0A 1A0

902-659-2202

Six Years

2010-08-06T04:56:00.000-07:00

Happy Anniversary, Love!

Winning Some

2010-08-05T17:37:00.000-07:00

I never did seal the grout on this table, which means it's vulnerable to stains and such. I made the tiles when I was taking pottery at the college and they each represent a part of PEI. The tree is an image of the crooked tree that hung out over our bank--it's more of a memorial now since the tree was cut down...without my consultation. That's another story.

The centre mosaic is obviously the sun and then, fish. I painted the wood ivory and then distressed it with a palm sander. The point is, I love this table. I'm proud of it. It was a lot of work but I took something that was a little rough and gave it a new meaning.

I must admit that I was actually admiring it this morning while I sat on the couch knitting and drinking coffee. My latest gossip magazine (guilty pleasure) was waiting to be read and my laptop had yet to be turned on. The happy sounds of Kieran's play narrative filled the room.

Somewhere in my happy daydream/admiration, I heard Kieran call me. I guess I wasn't prompt enough in my answer because, before I realized his intent, he marched over and dumped my coffee all over the table.

I managed to save my knitting and laptop. The magazine was ruined and the rug got stained. With the help of my little mischief-maker, the table was salvaged after a good scrub. My lovely, relaxing morning was turned upside down in an instant and I looked at my son wondering what exactly makes him tick to do such a thing. I remember thinking that it was going to be a bad day. And I wondered if my beautiful child was a sociopath. Well, not really. But I was darn mad.

Well, this is how the day ended. We all headed to the beach for a walk after supper and Kieran chased his father's shadow the whole way. It wasn't a bad day after all. And my table is just fine...even if the rug isn't.

You win some...you know the rest...

For Mike Daoust

2010-07-27T18:06:00.000-07:00

A husband, son, uncle, teacher, mentor, athlete, friend...

He wrote to us earlier in the week to ask how Kieran was doing.

He told us to "seize the day."

That we are, Mike.

You will be so missed.

SUMMER

2010-07-24T17:24:00.000-07:00

It's been a frantic and stressful time on vacation. My days are packed full of chores, appointments, and activities.

For instance...

picking wild raspberries and enjoying them with some wine

hauling the canoe up on shore after a paddle (okay, Mike does that part)

casting on

eating mussels (oh, and is that wine again?)

watching sunsets

As you can see, the intesity is exhausting. I'm not sure how I'll recover. Any ideas?

With the mussels, raspberries, and apples, I keep wondering how long I can exist without going to the grocery store.

Knitting

2010-07-20T05:06:00.000-07:00

Knitting is going well. I've actually started to complete some of my projects. I even enlisted a model to show off my latest pieces.

Here is my felted bag. When I knitted it, it was HUGE. Then, my friend Jackie felted it in her washing machine. Kieran says it would be perfect for his cars but I have other plans for it. The nice thing about bags for gifts is that one doesn't have to worry about sizing.

I also finished one half of my sock project and am delighted to report that I'm almost finished the second. The bad news is that they are quite different. Apparently, my tension has changed. One sock is a little billowy while the other is more snug. Oh well! The recipient is exceedingly pleased--except for the fact that they likely won't fit until he's ten.

All Good Things

2010-07-18T16:31:00.000-07:00

knitting ~ driving ~ chatting with my boy for hours

no, I didn't knit a headrest cover...although, it's a lovely idea

knowing that Daddy is even more of a hero because he built Confederation Bridge

(by himself, of course)

sand castles

no words

COUSINS!

We took a risk. It was a good risk. So very pleased. So far.

Hopes and Prayer Please

2010-07-12T23:55:00.000-07:00

We're back in that horrible place with Kieran again. His seizures seem to be closing in on him. He had another tonight. His current medication will be maxed out as of tomorrow and now we have to make some decisions. Another med? Ketogenic Diet? Surgery?

That's why this space has been a little quiet lately. But so many of my friends and members of my community read this, I wanted to share so you can send prayers and hopes for healing our way. I really believe in that. And my intuitive little boy will just know you're all on his side.

I'm trying to be positive but I'm sure you can imagine my fears. This is a panic like nothing I've experienced. I have to remind myself that this has been Kieran's life since he was born and given his initial prognosis, we've had remarkable periods of wellness. But tonight, just hours after another fifteen minute seizure, that seizure-free time seems so long ago. Just when I think I've learned something about all of this, I get the heart knocked out of me.

The other day, Kieran was playing in the mud in our backyard. I was planting my new flower garden. At bedtime, Kieran looked at me and said:

"Something made me really happy today."

"What?"

"Watching you plant your flowers."

And it's just this amazing feeling knowing that a person who is so fresh, and so new to this earth is studying me so closely. I know that I have to be strong for him. I know he's afraid and I know he's watching me.

When he asked me WHY tonight after his seizure ended, I told him that I didn't know. I told him that his daddy and I would do everything is our power to help him because we're a team.

I don't believe there's a reason for everything. Some things just suck. But I trust that we aren't alone and that's why we'll get through this.

When doors to healing open, we'll have the faith to walk through.

Gardening With Native Plants

2010-06-30T19:12:00.000-07:00

My son has suffered another seizure. So tiring and discouraging. However, we have some ideas to help him heal. We just have to pick ourselves up and regain our optimism.

One way I do this is gardening. I love being alone in the silence, the dirt, the growth. I found this book at the library and love it. I want to make our yard into a native plant garden. Yes, hostas are in there right now, but as time progresses, and I learn more, I want to focus more on native plants.

Here are some of my favourite quotations:

The more disturbed or the more simplified a site, the more susceptible it becomes to weed seeds.

Carol A. Smyser

Without complexity, populations rise wildly or crash completely--that is, species become weeds or pests they become extinct.

Sarah Stein

Here are some suggestions for native plantings:

wild geranium

Dutchman breeches

wild bergamot

coreopsis

evening primrose

bee balm

obedient plant

Canada lily

purple coneflower

Happy Father's Day

2010-06-19T18:18:00.000-07:00

Ten Reasons Why We Love the Daddy in Our House

1) He builds the best tree houses.

2) He always has an idea brewing.

3) He washed the cloth diapers and hung them on the line for two years.

4) He puts too much maple syrup on Kieran's waffles.

5) He takes Kieran on bike rides under echo bridge.

6) He tells crazy stories about the cars he's fixed and his pet pig.

7) He can fix ANYTHING!

8) He feeds the cat every evening.

9) He brings tea to my classroom everyday (almost).

10) He'll do anything for his boy--even wear bunny ears in public.

Exceptional Family Magazine

2010-06-15T18:41:00.000-07:00

One of my columns is currently featured on Exceptional Family Magazine's new website. A shorter version of the same column appeared in The Brockville Voice back in March.

http://www.exceptionalfamily.ca/parentspeak.php

Less Gunk in Our Water is Good

2010-06-10T15:30:00.000-07:00

Two years ago, I participated in a local movement to ban the use of cosmetic pesticides in Brockville. Then, on Earth Day in 2008, the province announced a ban on those chemicals--the very day I was to present to council. It was pretty cool.

Many residents of Brockville will recall the crazy letters to the editor about my lack of parenting skills (for wanting my child to play on grass...gasp!) or reliance on my "good looks" for political gain. It was hilarious and strange. I realized that people could really loose their marbles over something like this. I, however, was focused on what was best for my kid and all the other children in this town: NO PESTICIDES! Dandelions or neuro-developmental disorders? Hmmm...tough choice.

Anyhoo, I heard a fragment of a news report on the radio this morning about a recent study in Ontario revealing a dramatic decrease in pesticides found in local streams. Gideon Forman from The Canadian Association of Physicians for the Environment commented that this means levels will be lower in our drinking water. I spoke to Dr. Forman in the middle of the madness of the Spring of 2008 so it was wonderful to hear this sort of news.

It's nice when science confirms one's gut. If anyone hears more, let me know.

Puttin' on a Show!

2010-06-05T19:51:00.000-07:00

In reference to the new television program Glee, Miley Cyrus was quoted as saying: "Honestly, musicals? I just can't. What if this was real life and I was just walking down the street on Rodeo Drive and all of a sudden I just burst into song about how much I love shoes?"

Not only has she insulted my favourite television program, but now that musical theatre is a part of my teaching assignment, she's insulted my profession too. I don't want to give the impression that I lie awake at night cursing sugar-coated, factory-produced child superstars with grotesque feelings of entitlement, but still...

I was a little miffed with this whipper-snapper--who is likely about to be turfed from the Disney machine for...gasp...growing up--but, I also cringe because this is how I once felt.

I must confess that I struggled with musicals. I also can be quoted by former students as saying that I didn't like when people broke into song randomly. Sound familiar?

But really, if I'm honest, it's because I didn't understand the art form and I didn't understand that whether a musical is dramatic or comedic, it's fun and actually quite meaningful to break into song.

And it's my students who've taught me this. Over the years, I've known students who's enthusiasm for musical theatre is, shall we say, profound. I watched these former students in St. Lawrence Musical Theatre Program productions and started to think there was something to this whole musical business.

I attended a high school that didn't put on musicals so I never had the High School Musical experience. Unless I count my role as Flower in an elementary production of Bambi, I've never been in a musical myself. Yes, you remember correctly. Flower was a skunk. So, essentially, my only musical theatre performance really stunk.

But this semester, I've had the honour of helping to direct a musical theatre production, along with two colleagues and several community volunteers. Now, I get it. I really get it.

Between June 2-5, the new Musical Theatre Program at St. Mary Catholic High School gave six performances of the full-length musical "Back to the 80s." We worked with forty-four students from grades nine to twelve towards a collective goal. We had a great time selecting costumes, re-discovering relics from that decade, and researching the nuances of the time. I can only imagine the dinner-table reminiscing that occurred in my students' homes.

When I watched their debut performance, I was choked most of the time. Yes, of course, my emotions are a little closer to the surface, but it was amazing to see the final result. I've said this before. I've been teaching for just over a decade now and as far as I'm concerned, multi-grade, cross-curricular collective projects are education at its best.

Never mind that pulling a performance together requires artistic, organizational, analytical, and technical skill, it builds community. When I see students, who might not otherwise know each other, bonding over a shared experience, I realize why people love this so much.

When I was asked to team-teach this course last year, I felt a little sceptical. I worried about my lack of experience. But I quickly learned that there's lots of people in the world with passion for theatre who are willing to help. I think I speak for my colleagues as well when I say we are grateful to them.

I can honestly say that now I'm hooked. I know this because I'm not fleeing the room when inundated by the same question over and over from excited students.

"What show are we doing next year?"

Dreaming of Sun

2010-06-05T08:00:00.000-07:00

a sunny photo for a rainy Saturday morning

Back to the 80s!

2010-06-03T20:05:00.000-07:00

Since February, we've been hard at work and we're finally at performance week. These photos are from our dress rehearsal. We had a full house tonight. There's still two more nights. Friday and Saturday at 7:00pm at St. Mary Admission by donation.

I would walk 500 miles...

Get Outta My Dreams

Princess Leia goes to prom...

Video Killed the Radio Star

Nothin's Gonna Stop Us...

I've had the time of my life...

THE LOVE SHACK!!!!!

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun...

chorus curtain call

sleeping punks

Nightie Night.

Readin', Rightin', Rithmetic...and Self-Esteem?

2010-06-03T20:00:00.000-07:00

Here's this week's column from The Observer...

Readin', Rightin', 'Rithmetic...and Self-Esteem?
By Andrea Cameron

The title of a recent column by Mindelle Jacobs, appearing in the May 25th Recorder and Times, startled me: "Focus on Self-Esteem Hurts Schools." The column goes on to discuss a new book called What's Wrong with Our Schools: And How We Can Fix Them by Michael Zwaagstra, Rodney Clifton, and John Long:

"Three upstart Canadian academics have dared to suggest what many parents already suspect--that North American public education has been so dumbed down that students are being seriously short-changed....because public school educators focus on enhancing kids' self-esteem instead of imparting core skills..."

Anyone who spends time with children and youth, whether parent or educator, knows that children cannot learn without self-esteem. Without self-esteem, perhaps they can memorize, circle letters on a multiple choice test, or check the right box, but can they really learn?

To truly learn something new requires us to take risks. People without self-esteem struggle to take healthy, world-by-the-tail risks.

A child must believe in herself to conduct a science experiment.

A youth must believe in himself to write an editorial.

So perhaps it's not the education system that's failing children and youth. Perhaps it's all the things in society that erode their self-esteem, causing them to arrive at school broken.

From birth, our society teaches children that it's not who you are, it's what you own. It's not how you feel, it's how you look. It's not what you give, it's what you can get.

In the midst of commercial jingle-jangle and perpetual text message palaver, we as parents and educators must salvage our children's sense of self.

Do we do this by teaching the three R's? Of course that's part of it. Whether a child is home-schooled, private-schooled, separate-schooled, public-schooled, or unschooled, skill and knowledge development are part of growing up. I believe that kids learn despite our curriculum and pedagogy. They learn intuitively. They watch us. Sometimes that's a good thing. Sometimes it's not.

But in order to learn, kids must believe in themselves. Testing examines a very limited skill set. Testing tells us what we don't know. What we need in our society...what we need to save our world...are people who can use what they do know well. We need people who can think creatively, who can take a problem, digest it, and come up with an innovative solution. Rote answers don't stop oil leaks.

I risk being labelled a "romantic progressive." Bring it. In order for society to progress, classrooms need to be more collaborative than competitive. Kids need to see each other as partners rather than as adversaries. They need to see their teachers as respected guides rather than as gate-keepers of knowledge. Because (shhhhh) we really don't know everything...

And as for self-esteem. Try learning your multiplication tables when you're terrified of what's going to happen at recess. Try reading Old Man and the Sea when you're worried what your old man is going to do to you when he finds out you failed English. Try learning the alphabet when you're hungry.

When kids arrive at educational institutions broken (or when their school experience is difficult), we need the staff to pick them up. We need the student support workers, educational assistants, chaplains and counsellors who can do the work of piecing lost souls back together. Can I emphasize how much we need support staff? We really, really do.

Perhaps there is some confusion about the true meaning of self-esteem. It's not getting a jellybean for reading a story. It's not getting a bike for attending school. I've taught in communities that rely heavily on a reward system for student achievement. Rewards don't increase self-esteem. Neither does praise. Sometimes we load on the "good jobs" and "you're specials" in an attempt to fabricate self-esteem.

In my opinion, there's a simple way to make kids believe in themselves. Create the space so they can actually do something. Whether they build a house in construction technology, put on a class play in drama, design a new product in business, or create a water filtration device in science, they need a sense of real accomplishment. They will feel far better and learn far more by contributing to the community than by hanging a high test score on the fridge.

A Simple Plan

2010-05-29T19:30:00.000-07:00

Oh my, I've been a slacker. I didn't post my last columns from the Observer. I met a lovely woman at the Blue Mountain Plant Swap today who told me that she loves reading my blog and was disappointed there hadn't been a post in a while.

Here's to you, Lisa!

If I disappear again for the next week, it's only because I am immersed in "Back to the 80's" madness. Yes...it's high school musical time! It's been a journey but we're almost there. I'm so proud of our group! But for the next week, my husband and son will be scavenging for food and clean laundry will be a vague memory. Why can't my husband do these things? you ask. Because we've also started a MAJOR renovation of our yard (new siding, deck, re-grading...)

Hence the title...

A Simple Plan

By Andrea Cameron

Someone in my life just turned four. Two weeks ago, I started wondering how we would celebrate. A small family gathering? A clown performance complete with balloon animals and terrified children? A giant blow-up jumpy castle? There are so many ways to mark the birth of our children--some celebrations and subtle, and some are, well, not-so-subtle.

Children's birthday parties can be crazy. Sometimes the child's entire class is invited. Sometimes families spend hundreds of dollars. I've heard of loot bags that rival those given out at the Oscars.

Children's birthday parties are like weddings. We attend a lot of them and vow to do things differently--usually more simply--when our turn comes along. However, as with weddings, simple can be elusive.

That's why we decided to have a picnic with a small group of friends. What could be more simple than a picnic?

For my son's previous three birthdays, we've had a few friends and their children over for dinner. Really, we probably enjoyed the party more than Kieran did. Now that he's four, it's harder to pull off a dinner party. He started dreaming about his special day weeks ago, thwarting my efforts to downplay the day.

I knew I was in trouble when, at breakfast a few days before the birthday picnic, he announced that he wanted a Merry-Go-Round with real horses at his party. Oh, and he clearly expected a troupe of dancing chipmunks. Then, for a while, he demanded a surprise party. Go figure. As the day drew nearer, and such imaginative possibilities continued to grow, I remained steadfast in my plan to keep things simple.

I'd read all kinds of suggestions to minimize the stress children's birthday parties: one guest per year of the child's age, keep things moving along, limit the party to two hours. I adhered to these low-stress rules. I even made gluten-free vanilla cupcakes so we wouldn't have to worry about plates and forks.

As my son continued dreaming about his ideal party, I remained resolute. Then, the night before the big day, my almost-four-year-old looked wistfully out the window and declared that he couldn't wait to taste his chocolate birthday cupcakes.

Note that I had originally made vanilla cupcakes. This is where simplicity melted away like an ice cream cake left in the sun. Common sense pooled into sticky puddles on the patio stones.

And so, I found myself in the kitchen at midnight, surrounded by two thousand bags of different gluten-free flours, stirring chocolate cupcake batter. Before going to bed, my husband stood in the doorway, shaking his head in pity. I had succumbed to the insanity.

That night, I dreamt that I was corralling six horses onto a carousel. Okay, that's not true, but my original laidback attitude transformed into Mother Bear anxiety. I even ran out the morning before the party to buy some disposable Mickey Mouse cups and plates despite my proclamation to make the picnic waste-free.

But on Sunday afternoon, as the sun sparkled on the river, as children chased each other laughing, my priorities realigned. I may have been a little sleepy from my late night baking spree, but I was glad I stayed (almost) true to my original intention.

At the close of our little party, Kieran sat on a lawn chair smiling up at me, chocolate cupcake all over his face. In that brief moment, I remembered him four years earlier, the morning I first saw his tiny curving ears and little bow-tie mouth. That's what the celebration was about.

And he didn't even mention the absence of real horses.

These Days...

2010-05-29T19:09:00.000-07:00

Mr. Toad's House

Mr. Toad came to visit. His arrival was most unpleasant since he appeared in Kieran's sand pit. I looked up to realize that my once-gentle child had pinned one of Mr. Toad's legs with a plastic shovel. I knew that I would be horrified should one of the legs be removed and my son would be even more horrified when he realized it was actually Mr. Toad.

"That's Mr. Toad!" I yelled.

Kieran recoiled. "I didn't know what it was!"

We examined Mr. Toad and he appeared to be unscathed (at least that lets me sleep at night). We then followed Mr. Toad around for a while. Interest in Mr. Toad's house was revived prompting the gift of a pine cone bookshelf.

Mike has used the old framing from our former deck to frame a new treehouse. It's going to be bigger than our house...We're waiting for cedar to finish the decking.

Kieran loves to help his dad. There's been a lot of power tool usage lately. This was one of the rare moments when I actually watched them work. (That drill could slip, you know!)

Our now infamous "simple" picnic was a grand success. We had a great time.

a simple plan...a perfect day...

***

Looking for something fun to do tomorrow?

Head out to Wendy's Local Market in Lyndhurst

May 30th

9:00am-5:00pm

Lots of organic and heritage veggie and herb seedlings

Experts on hand to offer gardening advice

If I didn't have rehearsal tomorrow, I'd be there.

In the Moment

2010-05-19T18:12:00.000-07:00

Here's my column from this week's Observer...

Every Friday at lunch I cry. Not because the week is over. Oh no. I cry with laughter.

Friday is one of the days my improv team and I meet to work on skills and scenes. We participate in the annual Kingston Improv Games and perform at school functions. Lately, we just meet for fun.

Sometimes, my group embarks on a journey to change a light bulb in the style of a Greek Myth. Other times, they tell the story of an everyday invention. The stories can be silly, divergent, random, and entertaining, but there's always one thing in common: they are truly in-the-moment. Anytime the scenes become too rehearsed or when we try to recycle an idea, the energy is lost.

This is the joy of improv. Other than the time spent developing team dynamics, the students create spontaneously. There are magical moments where someone says a perfect pun or a scene ties together seamlessly. There's no preparation, no paperwork, no stress. Just the power of the present.

They say that people who laugh live longer. I also find that these little pockets of humour in my week allow me to cope with other stresses better. After all, if we can laugh at ourselves, we can forgive ourselves. Laughing together unites us, makes us appreciate our shared humanity. We learn that humour doesn't come at someone else's expense (unless it's a re-enactment of a certain political leader being hit by a shoe).

I think it's good for the kids too, to just have a good belly laugh and then go back to worrying about marks and homework with a lighter heart. As adults, sometimes we like to diminish the problems of youth. They have no bills, no kids, no responsibility. What could they have to worry about?

I'm one of those people who saves all of my journals. When I look back at my writing from high school, I'm amazed at the fear and insecurity of my teenage self. In photos from those days, I looked so confident, with my black eyeliner and spiral perm. In my graduation photo, I'm ready to save the world. I'm glad I have these journals to remember the reality of my problems. I wrote about the Gulf War and how sick I felt about it all. I raged about nuclear weapons. The night of the Montreal Massacre, I wrote pages of stilted prose about how I never wanted to leave home to attend university. I wrote about feeling misunderstood. Not to mention the heartbreak of young love. Sigh.

So, I'm glad I know that my fears were real. And that the anxiety was real. Today, as a high school teacher, I try to remember that. That's why I make a place for laughter in my week. In the face of academic and social pressure, we need it. Awareness hurts and adolescence is a time of increased awareness of both self and society.

My point is, we all need a good chuckle. We aren't ignoring the bigger problems that need solving. While my improv team pretends to be a herd of rabid goats or sings mock Broadway show tunes, the earth still needs saving. Genocide devastates nations. People starve. But I think that taking the time to laugh gives us the energy to go back out into a world that can be awfully darn depressing. Maybe it even gives us enough fuel to do some good.

So I must say that I'm grateful to my band of improv-ers. They remind me of the importance of the present moment. They remind me of the power of stories. And they give me an excuse to laugh out loud. Thanks to them, I'll grow older with laugh lines rather than wrinkles.

And scene!

Tulips!

2010-05-10T19:28:00.000-07:00

They're almost finished...

Painting a Birdhouse

2010-05-09T19:46:00.000-07:00

Poppy on phone: "Guess what? I'm bringing you a birdhouse to paint."

"Oh good, Poppy! I just love birds!

And snakes..."

An Evening for Shari

2010-05-08T07:43:00.000-07:00

Okay, it's been over a week. I've been thinking about what to write about our Night for Shari that we held last Friday. We had no idea how it would go and it surpassed expectations. At one point, I looked around the room. Matthew Barber was playing, hundreds of people were gathered, Shari was smiling...and I knew it had all worked out. The Yacht Club was a perfect venue. So many local businesses and individuals contributed items for the silent auction, it was overwhelming. Basically, it turned out to be a great night of family, friends, and live music.

Speaking of the music, Matthew Barber was outstanding...and I'm not just saying that because he sang some Leonard Cohen. We are now all official fans. We bought one of his CDs and it's become the staple in our car (when our four year old tyrant doesn't want to hear "Wild Rumpus" or "The Potty Song").

Shari and Jim even got up to speak at the end of the night. It must have been a hard thing to do and I was so proud of them.

Thanks to everyone who made this happen...

A Special Kind of Mom...

2010-05-06T19:15:00.000-07:00

I'm so sad that this column didn't appear in The Observer this week. Good thing I have my blog so I can still share it.

A Special Kind of Mom...

There's a certain kind of mother I'd like to honour on Mother's Day. It's not the working mom or the stay-at-home mom, but she may be labelled as either. It's not the Yummy Mummy, the Mompreneur, or the Mommy Blogger but again, she may fall into these categories as well. This Mother's Day, I want to honour mothers who raise children with special needs.

Over the past four years, I've met all kinds of exceptional moms. I've read their blogs. I've called them to ask for advice or to offer comfort. We've corresponded over email, sharing our fears and triumphs. I've been amazed at the heroism of these women I've met, many of whom I'd never have known had I not turned to them when I was looking for answers. They've been to the dark place where a parent's worst fear comes true and have pulled themselves and their children back into the world. After coming to terms with a devastating diagnosis, whether it be during pregnancy, just after birth, or as their child grows, darkness descends. These mothers not only find enough light to keep going, but to embrace joy again.

Mothers of special needs children are amazingly resilient and resourceful, often becoming experts in their child's condition. They dance the line between accepting their children and challenging them. Exceptional mothers have to come to terms with the reality of their children's future. They worry about what happens when they themselves are gone. What kind of life will their adult child have without a passionate advocate?

When I see them at the pool, at the park, and at playgroups, I know that these routine things are not always easy. There's the reminder that their children are different, that life is sometimes more difficult. But then there's the beauty of continuing on anyway. Of loving and living in the face of great challenge.
And there's humour.

One of my friend's daughters has a neuro-developmental disorder. This little girl accepted a sample from an employee in a grocery store. When the child didn't respond with a thank you, the annoyed employee asked the little girl to "say the magic word."

"Abracadabra," she replied with confidence.

Then, there's my other friend who's son was born with a rare genetic condition. He is non-verbal and cannot sit independently. One day a well-intentioned speech pathologist student came to her house to offer support. The conversation went something like this:

"So, how do you communicate with your son?"

"What do you mean?"

"How do you know what he wants?"

"I just do."

"What does he do specifically to let you know that he's happy?"

"I can tell by the sounds he makes and by the way he moves."

"Well, I've brought an information package on how you can better communicate with your son."

Some days, it's magic. Abracadabra magic. Some days, you're holding a packet on how to communicate with your own kid.

Each developmental milestone becomes a summit to peak. Things like eating, sleeping, mobility, communication and toileting can become complicated tasks. Events that may be rites of passage for typical children and their parents--things like school--are daunting for families of children with special needs.

And somehow, in the midst of medical appointments, surgeries, medications, therapy, and daily care, these mothers find a way to change the world. It's because of exceptional mothers that children with special needs now attend their neighbourhood schools. It's because of these mothers that we no longer send exceptional children away to live in isolation. Consequently, our society has become more compassionate and understanding--but, there's still a lot of work to be done.

So to all you exceptional mothers out there...

I'll be thinking of you on May 9th.

A Tale of One Turtle

2010-05-05T18:23:00.000-07:00

So, my column is now being published in the local paper, The Observer. They are not yet on-line so I'll be publishing my column here.

Good things happened on Earth Day this year. We wore green, made promises, and planted trees. It's all lovely, but I worry that something's missing.

On Earth Day, I tend to think about turtles. I don't know a lot about turtles. But one spring day, about a decade ago, I learned a few important things.

I was teaching in Mount Forest, Ontario. On this particular day, I headed home along the country roads towards Kincardine. I came up over a hill only to be greeted by a horrific sight. A dozen turtle carcasses littered the road ahead. A metaphor for nature's struggle against humans, their instinct had urged them to cross. In what I assume was an effort to lay eggs for the next generation, they had been killed by truck drivers, farmers, and commuters like me.

Cringing from the gore, I almost missed her, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. One was still alive. I pulled onto the shoulder to watch.

The turtle put one foot in front of the other, answering her primal call to keep moving. I heard the rumble of a transport truck in the distance and braced myself as it advanced. The truck passed and I opened my eyes to see that the turtle--having retreated into her shell--had survived. Her vulnerability nauseated me.

Like I said, I didn't know a lot about turtles. So it didn't seem that outlandish to proceed to the middle of the highway, pick the turtle up, and carry her to her desired egg-laying destination. In those days, I'd been watching a lot of Crocodile Hunter...

I dashed out to the centre of the road. The turtle was about the diameter of a hub cap. I hadn't realized how slimey a swamp-dwelling creature would be until I was up close. Green algae clung to her shell.

Dodging greasy turtle guts, I ran back to the car for something to lay over the turtle so I could pick her up. All I could find was my new coat. I'll wash it, I thought as I nobly grabbed my latest purchase. Anything to save such a dignified creature.

By the time I returned, the turtle had emerged from her shell to proceed at her slow, but determined, pace. I laid the coat over her back, causing her to pause.
Before I reached down to lift her, I heard Steve Irwin's voice in my mind. "Crickey...she's a beauty." If he could pick up a venomous cobra, I could surely carry a friendly little turtle...

It's important to note here that given my lack of turtle knowledge, I certainly didn't know what species I'd approached. More importantly, I didn't know how to identify the snapping variety.

I placed my hands on either side of her shell and lifted the creature a few inches off the ground. When her long neck shot toward me and jaws clamped shut so close to my hand, I felt a rush of air, I jumped half-way into the other lane. I was lucky no other cars were coming or I would have joined the road kill.

I ran back to my car and fell into the driver's seat. After confirming the presence of all of my digits, I rested my forehead on the steering wheel to catch my breath.

Fine little Miss Turtle, I thought. Get squished by a transport. See if I try to help you again.

I looked back to the centre of the road. The turtle continued her journey. There was only one problem. My coat still lay on her back.

Grabbing a stick from the ditch, I crept up behind the turtle. I retrieved my coat and returned to the car once again.

Despite her rude response to my Good Samaritan attempt, I couldn't leave her there alone. I decided bear witness to her plight. Whether her story ended in triumph or tragedy, I would remain.

Minutes passed. Vehicles passed. But nothing hit her.

She made it. She made it to the other side.

And on Earth Day, I think about the importance of spending time in nature. We must realize how small we are in comparison to her wonders. Like my encounter with the snapping turtle, we must witness nature's struggle to understand our role in her destruction. Before we can change, we have to care.

A Domestic Weekend

2010-04-25T18:26:00.000-07:00

I was on my own with our son for much of the weekend. With a very busy week ahead, it was kind of nice to fall into a domestic rhythm. A staff meeting, parent-teacher interviews, an improv show, and our Matthew Barber concert all await me this week. It's going to be crazy. Did I mention that Nanny and Poppy are coming too? So, over the past few days, I did the things I know I won't have time for until next weekend.

cooking and baking (soup, bread, apple-blueberry sauce)

gardening

(even though our yard is a construction zone, spring bulbs have managed to reveal their splendor)

hanging laundry on the line

(thanks for all the wonderful responses to my "On the Line" column)

Earth Day Clean-up

Kieran constructed this garbage monster at library program. He named it "Moppy" but refused to put any garbage in it. Instead, he filled his mouth with sand. Moppy had a rough day and after losing one of his eyes, concluded his short life with this somewhat horrifying grimace.

And don't forget...

BIG NIGHT THIS WEEKEND

Friday, April 30

An Evening for Shari Mulville

The Brockville Yacht Club

Door open at 6:00pm

Admission $20

Matthew Barber (Juno-nominated musician)

Silent Auction

All are welcome!

In a Blue Room

2010-04-20T17:35:00.000-07:00

I'm loving this picture book right now. The story is rich with imagery and the language is poetic in its simplicity. This is Jim Averbeck's first book. The illustrations by Tricia Tusa capture the drama and imagination of childhood. Like with Goodnight Moon, the colours fade as the story progresses. I always find myself yawning ( in a good way!) on the last two pages" "And Alice, fast asleep in a blue room." This is a great book with which to close storytime.

Walkin' in the Rain

2010-04-15T15:56:00.000-07:00

Things learned on a walk in the rain:

rain makes things smell fresh
worms come out
robins search for worms
flowers perk up
rain sounds nice on leaves
little boys get stuck part-way down the slide

And to think I suggested we go inside when the first drops fell.

Matthew Barber Concert

2010-04-14T18:45:00.000-07:00

We're having a concert to support the Mulville family. Several months ago, I wrote a column about my friend Shari's battle with breast cancer. Well, she's recently completed her chemotherapy treatments and is getting ready to move onto daily radiation. This concert is to celebrate Shari's strength and to provide her family with the support they need as they move into another intense phase of treatment.

Come out to see Juno-nominated Matthew Barber at the Brockville Yacht Club on April 30th at 6:00pm. Admission is $20 and there will be a silent auction.

www.mathewbarber.com

Mouse Craft

2010-04-13T15:44:00.000-07:00

Nobody here but us mices...

We got this from Chirp magazine. Just take a triangle of paper, fold it so it looks like a mouse and secure with tape. Add some ears, some googly eyes, a nose, and a pipe cleaner tail.

Oh...and Glee is on tonight...can't wait...

Mommy's a Quitter

2010-04-11T19:54:00.000-07:00

A mother and child are at the library. Perhaps it was last week. Perhaps I was the mother and perhaps my child was, well, the child.

Mother: [heaving a pile of books onto the librarian's counter while her child twirls recklessly into other patrons] Okay, now it's time to go upstairs and find mommy a book.

Child: Okay...okay...okay...

They ascend the stairs.

Mother: Look, a Sophie Kinsella book I haven't read. Mommy loves pink covers. Pink covers mean that the only real conflict will surround an unpaid Visa bill or an aloof boyfriend. Since you were born, Mommy can only handle books with pink covers. Mommy doesn't like books with sad things...

Child: [pulling a thousand page historical novel off the shelf] Oh, Mommy. This is just what you've been looking for. This is just what you need.

Mother: Thank you sweetie, but Mommy's happy with her pink book. That book looks a little long for me right now.

Child: rolling eyes You give up too easy, Mommy.

Mother: sighs

Native Plants

2010-04-08T17:37:00.001-07:00

Two weeks ago, I wrote about my intention to incorporate more native plants in our garden. Native plants attract native species of insects that feed insects, amphibians, and mammals. I found a great website that outlines invasive plants and suggests indigenous alternatives.

http://www.nativeplants.evergreen.ca/

Easter Weekend Goodness

2010-04-03T18:35:00.000-07:00

I went on an adventure today to Wendy's Country Market. Having ordered through their mobile market for a few years now, I'd never had the chance to visit the shop. I've mentioned them several times on this blog and also have a link to their mobile market. They deliver local (and mostly organic) foods and other products directly to people's kitchens. This operation has changed the way our family eats by making local foods so accessible. Now, we know we can take a little road trip to this beautiful shop.

www.wendysmobilemarket.com

Wendy's Country Market can be found in a schoolhouse built in 1860. Several generations of Wendy's family attended school in this building. Her daughter is the seventh generation to live and work on this land.

Several local meat producers sell their products here. Beef, pork, fish, and poultry are available but more adventurous souls can find wild boar, elk, and bison.

preserves, honey, and maple syrup

home-baked treats (there are a number of gluten-free choices!)

I nearly wept when I saw the greens and hydroponic tomatoes. We had a great salad for dinner.

EASTER!

I love the person who, many years ago, filled my front garden with hundreds of bulbs.

This morning, we decorated our Easter eggs. We used all-natural dyes. Here are some of our experiments. We used white eggs to get this effect.

Red Onion: With string, wrap the eggs in the onion skin and boil for 5-10 minutes. Add a tablespoon of vinegar to the water before boiling. Results in a reddish-purple colour.

Beets: Chop 2-3 beets. Place beets along with desired number of eggs in a saucepan and cover with water. Add a tablespoon of vinegar and boil for 5-10 minutes. Results in purple (I only had one beet left since the rest were of the candy-cane variety).

Turmeric: Cover desired number of eggs with water. Add 1-2 tablespoons of turmeric to the water depending how dark you want the colour. Add a tablespoon of vinegar to the water before boiling for 5-10 minutes. When taken out early, eggs are light yellow. Leaving them longer results in orange.

Cotton Tail

2010-03-31T19:31:00.000-07:00

One more teaching day until a four day rest...

looking forward to more time with this character...

hurts my heart...

To Turn a Heel

2010-03-30T18:23:00.000-07:00

Oh dear. I think my new hat is a little too big. Good thing it's actually a purse. I just thought I was quite hilarious when I put it on my head with my knitting girls. Of course, I had to milk "my funny" so I decided to put it on my blog. Anyway, it's going to be a lovely little purse--I'm just finishing the strap tonight.

Now that our play is over, I can get back to my knitting projects. What a great run it was--and I'm sad it's over, but my knitting projects have been neglected...

And then there's these socks. A little boy is eagerly awaiting them. I'm reminded of a pair of socks I started for a bigger boy many years ago--I stopped just before the heel. I can't abandon these ones. My status as "the best mommy in the world" depends on it. So now, I'm ready for some heel-turning. Party on.

Rise Up Singing

2010-03-29T18:05:00.000-07:00

Okay...as a struggling singer...I love this book. It contains lyrics to over 1200 songs. The music isn't included so you need to know the tune--however, it's amazing how many hundreds of songs we can all actually sing when provided with lyrics. I flip through and find songs to sing with my son at bedtime. It also solves that horrible dilemma of having just a few lines stuck in one's head. My favourites include Yellow Submarine, Big Yellow Taxi, Blowin' in the Wind, Froggie Went a Courtin', and Farewell to Nova Scotia. Thanks Peter Blood and Annie Patterson for creating this collection.

And the illustrations by Kore Loy McWhirter...stunning...

Roots for Shoots

2010-03-28T09:05:00.000-07:00

I'm just about done with root vegetables and apples...and all the food I preserved. Everything was lovely, even up to a month ago, but now, I just want some FRESH greens (not the ones shipped in from California). Oh, and asparagus. I so want asparagus from Clover Gardens. Soon.

I haven't ordered from Wendy's for a few weeks now because I wanted to work my way through our freezer, jars, and squash stock pile. There is one sorry-looking squash left and a few wizened potatoes. And, while I'm complaining, I'm not sure who I thought would eat the massses of PESTO I made. I love it, but I was a little overzealous.

So...now that things have settled down with our play (sigh)...I'm going to direct some energy towards cleaning out my pantry. Food is much less heart-wrenching than the arts. Feeling a bit like Eeyore.

Any ideas on what to do with all this pesto? Any non-traditional uses for it?

Raising a Mother

2010-03-26T17:23:00.000-07:00

It was the night before Sears Drama Festival. I always love this time of year with its culmination of all our hard work, with the excitement of taking a show to a new venue. The night before the festival, Kieran woke up at 2:00am with raspy breathing. I didn't sleep for the rest of the night, planning out the next day, worried about what would happen.

Croup. He woke up with croup. Murphy's Law! Luckily all sorts of people stepped up to make sure the play would happen. It was a crazy morning, but our caregiver, my colleagues, Mike, and friends all made sure the kids got to have their experience.

It takes a village to raise a mother.

I stayed home to take Kieran to the doctor. By late afternoon, he was better so I still made it to see the show. It was their best performance yet. So moving.

Bumps and Bruises

2010-03-23T17:34:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my boy was busy twirling when he tripped and smacked his head on his toy box. It was a bone-chilling noise especially since I'm a 'little' nervous about head bumps. And so, the goose egg formed. And then the bruising came. And boy-oh-boy was he snarly.

Once I decided not to flee to the emergency, I pulled out the ice pack and the arnica gel. Again, I'm pretty new at homeopathy but I know that arnica is good for bruising. Well, given the bump he had, he hardly has any bruising today. I used the gel from Borion--it's available at Superstore. What a great thing.

He's also sick. Of course, he's sick. My annual (yes, just ONCE a year) drama festival is tomorrow. He's been sick every year for the past three festivals. Over the years, we've come to have a great respect for herbal medicine in speeding up healing and building immunity. St. Francis Herb Farm has a wonderful children's echinechea and a new immune support combination. I got ours at Tara's Natural Foods in Kingston. Thank you!

Then there's the most important thing of all: Bear Feels Sick by Karma Wilson.

New Play

2010-03-22T18:41:00.000-07:00

Lots of good things going on. Since Christmas, I've been working with a group of students to create a one-act play. I wrote the play and one of my students composed the music. So, it's truly a home-grown production. It's been wonderful to write these words and then see where the students take the story. So rewarding.

Set in post-war Ontario, Stranger is a memory play exploring the murder of a thirteen year old girl. The play examines the crime, trial, and punishment for Penny Nelson's death.

We will perform our play at the Sears Ontario Drama Festival in Kingston. Our show is scheduled for 7:00pm on March 24th at KCVI (just behind Stouffer Library off Queen's campus).

That's probably why I just noticed that I haven't updated my blog in EIGHTEEN days.

Green Shelving

2010-03-04T13:04:00.000-08:00

I would never really describe my husband as "green." Nor is he overly vocal about protecting the environment. However, he is frugal. I'd say that's what makes him a master of the second R- reuse. When we replaced the wood core doors in our upstairs, Mike used the old doors to make some much-needed shelving in our basement. I thought it was quite clever of him...and inadvertently green.

I also like the way he looks like a superhero in this photo. The Green Wolverine. Sorry.

Play Dough Chaos

2010-03-03T17:39:00.000-08:00

Mixing play dough colours used to freak me out--just like I wouldn't let my peas touch my potatoes. But things have changed. Now, instead of separating the colours into separate tubs, I stuff this rainbow blob into the containers.

In Like a Lamb

2010-03-02T18:33:00.000-08:00

Sunday, just before the hockey game, we went hiking. The sun shone, puddles glistened, and melting snow dripped. Ahhhh...

And, of course, what's a hike without a boy with stick.

boy with stick

newly knitted blue hat

boy with stick, again

Making Baby Brainy...Still Trying...

2010-02-26T15:14:00.000-08:00

I'm so pleased that someone (Dennis) wrote a comment questioning my stance on television/DVD programing directed at babies and toddlers. This is an issue I am passionate about so I welcome debate. Dennis claims that the American Academy of Pediatrics is reconsidering their recommendation that children under two have no screen time whatsoever. If this is true, it would be an interesting change of direction. I'd like to see a link to this study--I couldn't find anything. However, if they do begin to suggest screen time for babies and toddlers, it wouldn't change my view that these products are a waste of time for this age group.

My view is based on parental observation. When my son watched these programs on two occassions, he was not responsive or interested in his surroundings. I could not engage him as he was transfixed on the screen (then again, maybe I'm just dull ;-). I find it impossible to believe that this flatened state is beneficial in any way.

Children under two (and older as well) must engage in learning that is tactile, kinetic, and emotional. A television or computer screen can provide none of these things. The only time it's suitable is when a stressed-out parent needs a break. DVDs are great when a tired parents needs a shower but play is far better for a developing mind and body. Let's call the television what it is: a babysitter. I use it in that way when I need to make dinner or an important phone call but I'm under no illusions that it will make my son smarter.

I think as children grow older, limited screen time is less harmful. As children begin to enjoy stories, programs with a plot engage them more. Videos can also provide down-time after a busy day. Again, I try to limit my son's screen time to under one hour per day. I even struggle with that sometimes.

Battle

2010-02-18T18:33:00.000-08:00

In order to seek vengeance against me for limitations placed on Thomas the Train viewing, my son opened several drawers in the kitchen.

Gasp!

He looked at me, chin raised in defiance.

"What do you think of that, Mom?"

"I don't really like it," I said, trying to keep my cool.

And then, in a moment of pure rebellion, he pushed the first drawer shut with all his might. He cringed, waiting for the satisfaction of the slam. However, the previous owners of this house purchased drawers that close in a slow and controlled fashion (there is a commercial with a couple fighting and trying to slam drawers). He slammed four drawers and cringed every time, but each time the drawer closed silently.

He sighed and went to play with trucks. Triumph.

Breathing Room

2010-02-15T19:31:00.000-08:00

Family Day. What greatness. Three day weekends are the best. They open life up a little...provide a little more space for the things that really matter. Such as...

Reading the paper. (Why do I find this sooooo hilarious?)

Laying hardwood floor. Notice the lovely blue wall colour selected by my friend, Shari.

Colouring on the windows.

Reading Mr. Men books in a living room tent. I think he's doing research.

Such a great weekend.

Facebook Page

2010-02-11T05:25:00.000-08:00

I decided to open a Facebook page for my Cameron's Corner column.

Become a fan!

Tell a friend!

Make comments!

The link is to the bottom left on this blog page.

Thanks...

Andrea

The Blue Planet Project

2010-02-07T05:54:00.000-08:00

As you can see from my last post, I'm thinking about water lately. I started thinking about it again this morning as the dishwasher and washing machine hummed away. Then, my husband went upstairs for a shower. And none of this is acutally water we drink.

I was living in Kincardine at the time of the Walkerton Water Crisis. That was a dramatic reminder of how precious safe drinking water is to society. I had returned from Nepal the year before, a place where you can't open your mouth in the shower without suffering unspeakable gastro-intestinal issues. Suddenly, the drinking water in our little rural area was deadly all because of carelessness, pollution, and privatisation of water testing.

Recently, I found this interesting (and somewhat frightening) website. The Blue Planet Project is a Canadian-based global initiative to secure access to water as the fundamental human right it is declared to be. It works to protect the world's fresh water from privitisation.

www.blueplanetproject.com

Just received the coolest questions from my three-year old:

Where does water come from?

Something to think about.

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch

2010-02-04T19:55:00.001-08:00

When we were in Kingston yesterday, I bought my final copy of The Ecologist. I've been buying this magazine regularly for the past decade or so. They are moving from a print magazine to an on-line magazine--something about conserving resources...

I've used their website over the years as well:

www.theecologist.org

There are many things I've loved about this magazine: the writing, the information, the inspiration for change. This issue contains, among other things, a list of valuable resources for eco-minded folk.

One organization that stood out for me is Algalita, a US-based, non-profit independent research foundation examining the degree of plastic contamination in our oceans. They focus on the Great Pacific Garbage Patch described as "a swirling vortex of plastic soup estimated to be twice the size of Texas." Bleh.

http://www.algalita.org

I read about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch in an essay called "Plastic Ocean." Essentially, all our litter (air mattresses, tampon applicators, plastic dinosaurs) collects in this one place because of currents, etc. This organization studies the impact of this plastic (which breaks down and floats on the surface of the water) on the food chain. I think of all the plastic toys in our house and cringe.

Whatever happened to the "floatie" of Kieran's that blew away from the beach in PEI?

Shhhhhh...

2010-02-02T17:18:00.000-08:00

There's a birthday in our house tomorrow...

Birthday preparations are serious business for a three-year-old...

Hope...

2010-01-31T17:23:00.000-08:00

There are a lot of people in my thoughts and prayers lately. It seems that every time I answer the phone, a friend or relative is struggling. Health issues and all the things that come along with illness dominate.

After learning that an old friend is quite sick, I just spent some time flipping through photo albums. There are pictures of prom, of camping trips, of funny moments. I look back at those photos, at my friends, and we all seemed so carefree. I don't think we actually were carefree, but I know we were happy. Can we really compare the tragedies of our teens and twenties (getting dumped, failing a course, fighting with parents) to the concerns of our thirties (sick parents, sick children, loss of employment)? I guess suffering is relative. So is joy.

And it's strange because even when I look back at photos of myself when Kieran was so seriously sick, there are photos where I'm smiling, laughing even. All I remember from those days is grief and fear but something made me laugh. I know it wasn't just a pose for the camera. I see genuine happiness on my face.

It says something about the human spirit. That in the face of fear, injustice, and suffering, joy can still bubble to the surface.

Remembering. Praying. Hoping.

Knit On...

2010-01-26T18:06:00.000-08:00

Has it been a week since my last posting? Didn't I just post yesterday? Wow! What a busy seven days. It must be the end of the semester. Well, things should slow down. After all, it is exam time now...and I am a drama teacher. How nice not to have a stack of English exams and culminating tasks to mark. Shhhhh...

Don't worry, though. I'm still as busy as the rest of the world. I've been writing plays, rehearsing plays, marking plays, and begin auditioning for plays tomorrow. My life is about plays.

And about banana-mashing.

And about finally finishing my crooked rug-hooking project (almost)...

And about making blueberry-applesauce...

And about knitting...

Shari and I had an official knitting lesson from Jackie last week. I opted for a project that doesn't require a pair. That way, once I finish making my hat, it's finished. I don't have to start all over and that simply increases the chances that I'll complete it.

There's something to this knitting thing. I know why Jackie "gets her knit on" during times of stress and why Ruthie has been encouraging me for years. One can chat while knitting (unlike the anti-social hobby of writing or reading) and at the same time, produce a home-made item that's good for the soul. So, rather than sit around with friends and talk about our worries/fears/problems, we kind of work them away. We might talk about the dark side but our hands are busy so somehow it's cleansing. I find that, at the end of the day during this long and emotional week, knitting gives me solace.

Writing gives me escape.

Knitting grounds me.

But I never expected my little knitting project to be so coveted. That's why the photo above shows my knitting laying on the floor. It's not because I'm a slob who just tosses things onto the floor--don't worry, mom. It's because my cat finds it no matter where I put it. It's because my three year old likes to "twirl it so fast." I have to hide my knitting and I can't knit in front of child or feline. Strange. I always pictured myself by the fire knitting while my cat slept beside me and my child read on the floor. Instead, it's like I'm defending the Holy Grail from falling into the wrong hands.

I think Mike is after my knitting as we speak. What diabolical dead is he planning?

Better go.

Read to Every Kid, Every Day

2010-01-19T16:59:00.000-08:00

The Brockville Library is running a program called Read to Every Kid, Every Day. There is a selection of books available at the library. Simply sign out some of the books, read them with your child, and then vote on-line.

The link can be found through the Brockville Library site:

http://brockvillelibrary.ca/

Kieran and I especially enjoyed The Three Little Fish and the Big Bad Shark by Ken Geist (published by the Scholastic Imprint, Cartwheel Books). We also got a laugh from Good Night, Gorilla by Peggy Rothman (published by Penguin Puffin). I'm biased towards I Went Walking by Sue Williams (published by Voyager Books) because it's illustrated by Julie Vivas, who is magical.

The book selection is fun. Most of the books are humourous and many have rhyming. There is a nice balance between books that will appeal to both boys and girls.

Get reading...

Get voting...

Art for Art's Sake

2010-01-17T05:49:00.000-08:00

All children are artists.

The problem is

how to remain an artist

once he grows up. ~Pablo Picasso

I think spending time with children...

makes adults into artists.

When Fiction Assaults Reality

2010-01-16T05:22:00.000-08:00

The newest hit in our house is Winnie-the-Pooh. For Christmas, we gave Kieran a treasury of the original Pooh stories and he loves them, especially the one where Eeyore loses his tail. He even came charging out of the bathroom the other day, brandishing the toilet brush, asking me if it was Eeyore's tail--eeeww! Now the characters make frequent assaults on our daily life.

Mother: Eat your lunch.

Son: I can't.

Mother: Why?

Son: Because you need to be Eeyore. You need to talk gloomy.

Mother: Okay...(in that gloomy sad donkey-who-lost-his-tail way)

Son: I like this soup.

Mother: Must be nice to like something. Donkeys don't like much of anything.

Son: I can't eat again.

Mother: Why?

Son: Eeyore needs to sing.

Mother: Okay...what song?

Son: Defying Gravity.

I know you're thinking I'm indulgent and a little crazy. I don't blame you. I did it. I sang with first few lines of Defying Gravity like a depressed donkey. That's how badly I wanted my son to eat his lunch. There's no dignity in this motherhood gig. But he did eat his lunch. And after the first few lines of the song, he averted his eyes, and told me that he'd heard enough of Eeyore's singing, that I could sing like mommy again. Phew.

Green Cleaning

2010-01-11T09:51:00.000-08:00

I mentioned my switch to natural cleaning products in my last column. Here are some of the recipes I use at home. I'll keep adding to the list as I think of things. Sometimes, I do need to pull out the "big guns" but it's better to use those things rarely. We certainly don't need them every week.

Cleaning Floors:

-add 1/4 cup of vinegar to a bucket of warm water and wash with a mop or cloth
-You may need to rinse with fresh water
-vinegar is a natural disinfectant
-it removes dirt well and leaves things shiny
-don't leave large pools to dry

Windows:

-2 teaspoons white vinegar with a quart of water in a spray bottle
-spray on and wipe clean with a cloth

Scouring Powder for Sinks and Tubs:

-cover surface with baking soda
-scrub with a plastic scouring pad
-rinse well
-if you want to let the surface "soak" mix a little dish soap or castile soap with the baking soda to make a paste

Quick wash for countertops, tubs, and sinks

I love castile soap. It's vegetable based, removes soap scum well, smells good, and rinses away easily. I use Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap (love the Hemp Pure-Castile Lavender). In Brockville, you can get it at New Horizons but I've seen it at many health food stores. A 16 oz bottle is about $11 and lasts for months. The bottle is very strange but the contents work great. To clean the tub and shower surround, I squirt a little on one of those shower "poofs" that we all have lying around (mine's actually attached to a broom stick), scrub, and rinse. So quick. Nothing toxic.

The Natural Family Column

2010-01-09T05:36:00.000-08:00

I posted a while ago that I'd have a regular column appearing in Natural Life Magazine. My first column, under the title The Natural Family, appears in the January/February issue. On newstands now...

It's a reprint of the "Girls Check Your Girls" column that appeared in The Brockville Voice.

How exciting to see my writing in a publication I've so enjoyed over the years.

http://www.naturallifemagazine.com